The next morning, Kinnit paused before entering Admiral Stonefist's office. She'd worried herself sleepless the night before. A healthy dose of coffee would get her through the day, but she still didn't know how to deal with the Admiral.

When she first arrived on board, he'd been... well, not warm, exactly, but more helpful. More like a mentor. More willing to listen. Rough and harsh, but ultimately fair. Now, she felt as though she couldn't do anything right.

She'd gone over and over the last few weeks in her mind to figure out what she'd done wrong, or if she'd acted differently. If she were making more mistakes than before, or if she'd said something to make him lose faith in her loyalty or capability. But all her fretting and reflection did not bring her a single insight.

It wasn't even as though anybody was talking bad about her-- she hadn't even been here long enough to make any enemies. The only bad interaction had been with the other Assistants, who'd only engaged in typical hazing. Which had led to Admiral Stonefist's violent reaction.

She'd heard the old saw, "never meet your heroes." And Admiral Stonefist, well, he wasn't her hero per se, but she had a lot of admiration for him. In all the stories and vids, he was the very model of the Imperium ideal. Strong. Just. And always victorious.

And despite how he'd been treating her, she still admired him. Despite the insults and the nitpicking, she knew that she was Assistant to the greatest military mind in living memory. And she knew that he was honorable, and always would be. And she knew that he would always work for the good of the Imperium, even when the Imperium worked against him.

She shook her head. He could be so stern, so serious, so cold. But he cared, really cared about the people of the Imperium.

So why didn't he care about her?

She took a deep breath and set her jaw.

The greatest Admiral in the Imperium deserved the greatest Assistant in the Imperium.

And whether he liked it or not, she would be that Assistant.

She opened the door and marched in.

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Admiral Stonefist had determined to talk to Kinnit today. It was a hard resolution to make, but not nearly as hard as figuring out how to start. How could he even have that conversation? "Hey, sorry that I've been treating you like garbage and trying to drive you out of the service for a few days. If you left the Navy, that would be great, but I'm sorry I did it."

Not that it would be great if she left. In fact, it would be a disaster. He gazed at his tidy, organized desk and shifted uncomfortably.

For that matter, why had he been trying to drive her out? It wasn't as though the Navy weren't full of useless people that were a danger to themselves. And if she got hurt or disappointed, well, that happened. Lots of people were disappointed with the way their lives turned out. So why did it upset him so deeply to think of her going through that?

He thought of her cute little face crumpling up in disappointment and guilt stabbed him. He'd put that look on her face in an effort to keep it off her face.

But more than that, what was worse than the guilt, worse than crushing her cheerful heart, was the thought of the Navy grinding away her bright, chipper spirit, turning her into just another drone bureaucrat. Blanking out her precious smile and turning her charming naiveté into the guarded hostility that the Navy engendered.

The worst possible outcome was not just to have her go away, but rather to take away from her everything that made her special and unique.

But as he thought through things, he belatedly realized that her love for the Navy and her rock-solid faith in the ideals of the Imperium were part of what made her special and unique. Her enthusiasm and charm when she saluted, her high, flutey voice when she recited the Imperial Oath, her delight when she found ways to live the Imperial motto. Those where as much part of her as her high cheeks and infectious laugh.

He sighed.

He couldn't protect her by sending her away. All he could do was prepare her. Help her find a way to do the work she loved, the work she believed in, while clinging to her spirit.

But he hadn't even been able to hold on to his own spirit. How could he help so fragile a soul cling to hers?

The door to his office slid open, sounding its warning tone. She stood there, looking at him, and all his orderly thoughts and noble intentions scattered away. He was glad to see her and inexplicably fearful at the same time. He buried his face in his console.

"Morning," he mumbled.

Kinnit strode purposefully to her table and organized her work for the day. Then she approached his desk and saluted.

"Shall I fetch us some coffee, sir?" she asked.

Reluctant to meet her eyes, he answered while staring at his console.

"Ah, if you'd just make some in the kitchenette, that would be fine."

"No, sir. I know you'd prefer your coffee from the mess. An SS like me couldn't be expected to make proper Terran coffee."

Her words stung, all the more because they weren't delivered with a sarcastic bite, or with anger, nor any edge of bitterness. They were delivered only with a little sadness, and an apologetic tone.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Her words hurt because she didn't mean for them to hurt.

He didn't trust himself to answer, so he didn't. She stood waiting for a minute, then quietly left. She returned a short while later with two stasis mugs, and carefully set one on his desk.

He silently berated himself. Idiot! He was just making it worse! But the more time he spent thinking about it, the more unsure of himself he became, and the harder it was for him to open his mouth, to address her, to speak at all. His thoughts spiraled further into disorder.

They passed the morning in silence. She worked steadily, and once into her flow, she hummed quietly to herself and swung her feet. Meanwhile, Admiral Stonefist loured at his desk and pretended to work.

The ceiling in his office flashed. He looked up, inspiration striking.

He couldn't talk to her in his office, it was too formal, too work-oriented. They had to talk on neutral ground.

He stood.

"Lunch time," he said. "Let's go get something to eat."

Kinnit started, staring at him.

"You're taking lunch, sir?" she asked.

"Yes, I do that sometimes," he lied. "Will you join me?"

"Yes, sir!" She hopped up and followed him into the hallway.

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Kinnit couldn't help but feel a little thrill of pride walking down the busy hallway beside Admiral Stonefist. People deferentially moved aside for him, and even those who didn't see him were gently pushed aside by the unconscious movement of the people around them. The Admiral and the Assistant traveled in a bubble in the crowd.

One man stumbled awkwardly as he failed to move gracefully with the crowd pushing into him. He was dressed in drab clothes that only just missed being shabby. Kinnit frowned at him.

Admiral Stonefist didn't notice, of course, his eyes were uncharacteristically locked on his scanner. He kept his attention on the device in his hands as they walked.

When they arrived at the mess hall, he tucked his scanner away, pushed both doors open and strode in.

Kinnit was reminded of the old western movies, when the villain walks into the local saloon. The music stops and every eye turns to him as he walks to the bar.

It wasn't quite that dramatic in the mess hall, but Admiral Stonefist's presence made an impression. Talking quieted or stopped, and people glanced sidewise at the Admiral, trying to pretend they weren't looking.

He stopped in front of the lunch counter and slotted his card.

"Lucy, good to see you."

Kinnit gaped at him. It shouldn't have surprised her that he knew the server's name, but it did.

"Well, howdy, Admiral. What can I get ya?"

"I'll have what everyone else is having," he said quickly.

"You're in luck, hon. Hamburger and mac and cheese, with carrots. Everything a growing boy needs."

He nodded in acknowledgement and accepted the tray. Kinnit received her food and they sat. Grimthorn began eating in silence.

Kinnit was trying to work out what he meant by coming to lunch, but she was as mystified as everyone else in the mess hall. She looked around at the sea of questioning faces.

Only one person seemed completely disinterested. That fellow in drab clothes again, now against the back wall, behind Grimthorn. She didn't recognize him. He was utterly focused on his tray. There was nothing whatsoever interesting or unique about him, but every time she tried to focus, Kinnit felt her eyes sliding away. She frowned.

There wasn't even anything particularly concerning about his manner or his dress, but every time she tried to look at him, she got a chill, and goosebumps ran along her spine. It was the same chill she used to get back on her home world, when she'd stand on Lookout Rock in the chilly autumn air, listening the predators in the forest cooing and calling.

She shook her head. She was letting her imagination run away with her.

"So, sir, how is your work going today?" she asked, turning her attention back to Grimthorn. Every ear in the area subtly swiveled their direction.

"Suitably," he grunted, and continued eating. After a minute he paused his eating.

"I'm trying to work out a proper apology," he said finally. "Something sincere and meaningful."

"Oh, for the Assistant you p-- the Assistant from the other day?"

Grimthorn looked surprised.

"Him? Oh, yes. Him, too, I suppose." Grimthorn frowned, and turned his gaze to Kinnit.

"Tell me, Assistant Kinnit, if someone had treated you badly, how would you want them to apologize?"

Kinnit's face lit up. He was asking her for advice!

"Oh, a good apology is simple," she chirped. "But that doesn't mean it's easy. You have to admit what you did, then explain why you did it. Not to defend yourself, mind you, that will ruin the apology. Then you have to say that you're sorry, and offer to make amends. Or maybe give them a small gift." She smiled wistfully. "I like chocolate. I could forgive a lot for real Terran chocolate."

She put a thoughtful finger on her jaw and tilted her head.

"But above all, sincerity is a must," she said. "Really, none of the rest matters if the person giving the apology is not sincere."

Grimthorn looked at her steadily, slightly too long to be comfortable.

"Kinnit, I--" He suddenly seemed to be aware of all the listening ears that surrounded them. "That is good advice, thank you."

"Yes, sir!" she said, nodding with a grin so big that it nearly squeezed her eyes shut. She began eating again with a hearty appetite.

After they finished lunch, they left the mess hall and headed for the elevator. Instead of punching the button the would take them to his office, he pressed a button for an area of the ship she'd never seen before. She looked up at him quizzically, but he buried his face in his scanner again.

They arrived on a quiet, mostly unused deck. Nearly no one was around. Grimthorn was staring at his scanner, but he appeared to be thinking hard.

Bemused, Kinnit followed along with him. She wasn't sure what he was up to, but she was ready to help him with whatever he needed.

As they walked, a shadow tugged at the corner of her eye. She frowned and looked around, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

His walk slowed, then stopped. They were alone in the hallway. He looked at her.

"Kinnit, there's something I need to tell you," he said.

She turned to him, attentive. A junior officer walked out of a nearby room. Seeing the Admiral, he squeaked in surprised, saluted, and scuttled away.

"Ah, let's find somewhere out of the way to chat," he said. He buried his eyes in the scanner again and wandered down the hall.

Kinnit, powerfully curious, followed. She glanced behind them and spotted the drab man again. She frowned, but turned her attention back to Grimthorn. What on earth was going on in his head? She was anxious to know.

They were alone in the hallway again, yet he trudged along, distracted, glancing around for a quiet nook to slip into. Ships were not really made for privacy.

She opened her mouth to suggest talking in his office, but she felt a sudden galvanic shock.

On her home world, sometimes if the winters had been particularly severe, the predators would go blood-crazy. They'd cluster up and boil out of the forest in a rush, unmindful of Kobold arrows or slings, intent on tearing Kobold flesh.

The savage, unhinged howling they made would give her that same shock.

She turned to see a dark shadow flying toward them, a vicious blade extended, aimed directly at Grimthorn's back.

"Sir!" she yelled, and her legs moved before she could think.